Never Say Never
by malreina
Summary: Henry's kidnapping has brought his misfit family to Neverland, where Emma and Regina search for their son and find something new within each other as well. Swan Queen.
1. Chapter 1

Dawn broke on their third day in Neverland.

Even the early morning sun was uncomfortably warm when there was no breeze to temper its heat. Light washed over the Jolly Roger's deck, casting long shadows across the water. Three days they'd sat anchored in an unfamiliar sea. Three days stuck in the doldrums, without a breath of air to stir the sails. Three days and Henry was no closer.

Emma Swan and Regina Mills sat atop coiled piles of rigging. The women squinted against the growing brightness, as if the sun was irritated that they should be awake and working before it had even peeked above the horizon.

To be fair, they simply couldn't sleep.

Captain Hook had woken even earlier and left them a bucket of fresh-caught fish to scale for breakfast. Regina was quite certain she was sick of fish, never having liked them to begin with, and their jaunt into this world had not improved her palate. But they hadn't precisely set sail prepared and well-stocked— a fact that became more painfully obvious each day.

Each _accursed_ day.

She stole a sidelong glance at the woman beside her, blonde hair framing her face as she sleepily scraped her knife along a fish. Regina quickly adjusted the sentiment.

Not _everything_ was accursed.

"I heard they grind up fish scales and put them in lipstick to make it shiny," Emma said.

Regina slid out of her coat, taking Emma's as she did the same, and quirked an eyebrow as she hung them over the rigging. "Was that supposed to provoke a reaction?"

"I was hoping for an _ewww_, yeah."

"Bear in mind, I come from a land where the closest thing to toilet paper is leaves. I believe you've been there?"

"Oh come on. Even the queen had to stoop so low?"

"Goodness, no! I got the _best_ leaves."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Okay, okay, you win."

Regina smirked, and Emma stuck out her tongue, then the women fell into amicable silence as they prepared the fish.

Something had changed between them.

Not merely the gradual shift in their attitudes over the past two years, but a more sudden, tangible change since their magical stunt in the mines. Perhaps it was Regina's lack of social interaction catching up to her, perhaps she'd misinterpreted Emma's behavior— but it seemed like the younger woman sought her company.

It had little to do with the ship's confined quarters. If you wished to be alone, it could be managed, as Rumpelstiltskin had deftly proven these past few days. But Emma rarely left Regina's side. At first, she thought— not without a bit of resentment— that her former adversary was keeping tabs on her. That thought was quickly dispelled, as Emma was nothing but friendly, even warm.

Regina was suspicious.

Then it occurred to her that the reason she had no friends could _possibly_ be attributed to the fact that she greeted friendliness and attention with suspicion.

Then she was angry with herself for a good several hours.

She hated to admit it, but she probably needed a lot more therapy with Dr. Hopper. As it was, she had no one to confront with her problems but herself, so Regina found a deck of cards and nervously asked Emma if she would like to learn a game played in the Enchanted Forest.

Emma had agreed with a grin, and Regina realized she'd made a friend.

"Do you want to go back to the Enchanted Forest?" asked Emma.

Regina did not look up as she sliced a fish's belly and pulled out its innards, dropping them in a chum bucket with some distaste. "I've grown accustomed to Storybrooke."

"Way to dodge the question."

Regina gave her a look. "There's very little left for me in the Enchanted Forest that I couldn't find in Maine. I'll go where Henry goes."

A half-smile crossed Emma's features and was gone. "To be honest, I think he's better off in Storybrooke."

"It's that bad, then?"

"There are definitely fewer ogres in Maine."

Regina chuckled.

"I don't know," Emma said. "It would take a long time, but I guess it could be rebuilt."

"But you don't think it's necessary."

"No. Y'know, I really don't." Emma sighed and tossed a cleaned fish on a tray, then plucked another from the bucket. "We've got a perfectly good world _here_. Uh, back there. Wherever the hell, you know what I mean. Where Henry could go to college and learn to drive and, I don't know, have access to friggin' _modern medicine_."

"I agree," said Regina.

Emma paused and teasingly kicked her foot. "Is the universe imploding? I think that's the first thing we've agreed on regarding Henry."

Regina smiled and flicked a fish scale at the younger woman, who promptly threw a whole handful back at her. The glittering little flecks stuck to her dark hair, but she no longer worried about the state of her hairstyle after three days at sea. Shampoo was a distant memory.

"Don't start a war you can't finish, Miss Swan."

"Ooh, them's fightin' words."

"In all seriousness, Emma, I've believe we've fought enough," Regina said, plucking scales from her hair. "Most of all over Henry."

"It hasn't gained us much, has it?"

"No. Earth has so much more to offer Henry than the Enchanted Forest ever could, even during its best days." Regina shook the hair out of her eyes and glanced at Emma. "He thinks it's all horseback riding and sword-fighting, but—"

"But we might as well send him to the Dark Ages."

"Yes. I think even the townspeople have romanticized their memories. If they return to the Enchanted Forest based on nostalgia, they may be disappointed— or worse."

"We can't stop them from going home."

"No," Regina said quietly, "but we can stop Henry."

Emma sighed and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "He's gonna be pissed."

"When he's older, he'll understand. Besides, if we both stay in Storybrooke, I don't think he'll want to leave." _Assuming we find him_, Regina thought, but dared not voice. A lump formed at the base of her throat. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath to clear the weight in her chest.

Loud footsteps thumped in the stairwell leading belowdecks behind them. Regina cleared her throat and quickly blinked the sting of tears from her eyes. She could almost cry in front of Emma; the younger woman would understand. But her mother's voice still whispered accusations of weakness, deep in the back of her mind. The rest of her shipmates would not see her shell crack.

Charming burst through the door and lumbered onto the deck like a bear out of hibernation. He stretched and yawned and squinted into the rising sun, which did nothing to dispel the image. Regina held back a snort and continued with her work. Emma waggled a wet fish at him.

"Breakfast," she said as greeting.

Charming blinked at the two women. "I thought _I_ was up early."

"We beat you to it."

"You snore," Regina added.

"I don't!"

"You do." Mr. Gold slid through the doorway, cane rapping sharply on the deck as he wove between them with little more than a glance. Outnumbered, Charming sulked his way to the bow to check the rigging.

"Hey, Gramps," Emma said. "Take a seat and grab a fish."

Gold stopped, turned on his heel, and prodded Emma's shoulder with his cane. "Because you're the mother of my grandson, I'll let that slide _once_. Call me that again, and we'll see how fast you can _swim_ to this island."

Without another word, he hobbled off.

"Okay," said Emma. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bunk."

"I believe the morning's peace and quiet is over," Regina muttered.

On cue, Hook stuck his head out the window of the captain's cabin and grinned wolfishly at them. "It's quite peaceful in my cabin, ladies, if the deck's becoming too crowded for you. You're both welcome inside at your pleasure."

Regina scowled at him. "I'll cut _off_ your pleasure if you proposition us again."

Emma tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't stop a twitch of her lip and snort. She proffered a hand between them in a low-five, and Regina softly slapped it, flashing her a girlish grin.

"Ah, yes— _that's_ why I never had a female crew." Hook sighed and retreated back indoors.

Snow White was the last of the misfit family to appear on the deck. Despite her name, she looked a bit _too_ pale, and maybe a little green around the edges. Emma dragged their fish buckets out of her path.

"Mary Ma— uh, Mom? That seasickness easing up yet?"

Snow carefully inched away from the fish and covered her nose. "Uh, no, not really. I just needed some fresh air. It's so cramped belowdecks."

Regina bared her teeth in a disingenuous smile that left her eyes sharp as flint. "Why don't you join us, dear? The fish are particularly fragrant this morning, and once you slice open the bellies, the guts just slide right out."

Snow White clapped a hand to her mouth and made an unpleasant retching noise, then shot Regina a glare and scurried to the railing. Emma winced as her mother coughed and sputtered, but Regina simply raised her eyebrows in a self-satisfied smirk.

"Regina. She's still my mother."

Regina's expression soured. "And she _killed_ mine."

"Do you really want to play this game?" Emma said, her voice low, but no less hard. "I don't like being stuck in the middle of this. Eventually, this blaming has got to stop or someone's gonna snap— and at this rate, it might be _me_."

"You expect me to forget?"

"No, I expect you to _forgive_. At least try. How can we all work together if everybody's holding grudges?"

Regina met the younger woman's eyes for a few moments before letting her gaze drop.

"She's made mistakes," said Emma gently, "but so have you."

Emma was right, she knew it.

Unable and unwilling to respond, Regina scraped at a fish in hot silence, her movements quick and harsh. Being chided like a little girl was not what bothered her so much as knowing she deserved it. Slippery fish slid in her hand as the knife raked over scales. Regina adjusted her grip without thinking, and with another angry stroke, and the blade slit her palm.

"_Damn it_!"

Bright blood rolled down her wrist and dripped on the deck. Regina squeezed her fish-slicked hands, cursing. Emma dropped her knife and leapt off her seat.

"Hang on, just a sec! You're gonna get the cut all fishy!"

"A rather unavoidable outcome, _Miss Swan_," Regina snapped, pointedly looking everywhere but the blood seeping through her fingers.

Emma grabbed a clean bucket, tied off a rope to its handle, and tossed it overboard. "Well, we're short antiseptic, I can tell you."

Regina barked a humorless laugh. "And _these_ are the good old days Storybrooke misses. You'd think they'd worship me for introducing indoor plumbing."

Emma grunted, hauling the filled bucket out of the water. "Yeah, after using a chamber pot for the first time in my life, I can safely say I'd rather piss over the side of the ship."

"Emma!"

"Oh, don't go all hoity-toity princess on me."

"_You're_ the princess, if I recall."

"Yeah, well, I missed twenty-eight years of princess training, so I'm a little behind on my lessons." Emma dragged the bucket to Regina's feet and dropped it with an unceremonious _thunk_, sloshing water on the deck. She knelt and gently took the woman's bloodied hands. "You're gonna have to let go there, champ."

Regina winced and looked away as she took pressure off her palm. Fresh blood seeped from the cut.

"This is gonna sting like a bitch," said Emma.

"Just do it."

Taking her orders to heart, Emma held Regina's wrist tight and doused her hand in seawater.

"_Shit_!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Wow, language."

"Do shut up."

Emma grinned at her, earning an eyeroll, but Regina couldn't help a small smile on her lips. Of course, when Emma dunked her hand back in the water, that quickly disappeared.

"_Emma Swan_!"

"Uh oh, she's using my full name."

Regina halfheartedly tried to tug her hand back, but Emma used the chance to inspect the cut before more blood welled up. She prodded at the slice, straight across Regina's palm, and hummed.

"It's not too deep. You'll live."

"Clearly through your valiant efforts."

"Well, obviously."

Her hand lay cradled in Emma's, and as the younger woman flashed another goofy grin, she stroked Regina's thumb with her own. Regina cleared her throat.

"Emma," she said quietly. "If I might have my hand back?"

Startled, Emma yanked her hands away as if she'd touched fire, her ears burning nearly as hot. Had she not been so embarrassed, she might have seen Regina's cheeks redden as well.

"Well, uh, come on. Let's find something to bandage that up," Emma said.

Regina rinsed the remaining blood from her hands and glanced up as Emma spoke; her blonde hair stirred in the breeze, drifting across her face. Regina flicked water from her fingers, then froze. She turned back to Emma.

"Emma— your hair!"

"What? Did I get fish in it?"

A gust of wind swept across the deck, whipping at the furled sails. Regina laughed and grabbed their coats before they were blown into the ocean. Emma stared at her, then up at the sky, then started laughing too.

"Hook!" she yelled.

"I love it when you call my name, darling," his voice came muffled from his cabin.

"You ass, the _wind_!"

Hook stuck his head out the window and was met with a face full of sea spray; he gave a loud whoop.

"Get the anchor hauled in and get those sails unfurled, lads and lasses! We are getting _out_ of these doldrums, or my name ain't Killian Jones!"

* * *

**A/N: Hey, thanks for reading! I'm actually about to go on vacation for two weeks, so I won't be able to work on this story until I'm back, BUT DO NOT FEAR, DEAR READERS. I've got at least ten chapters outlined thus far, so there's more Swan Queen adventure to come! Leave lots of reviews to encourage me upon my return. :3**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, I just HAD to finish chapter two before leaving for vacation. The Swan Queen feels were too strong to resist. :P I hope this holds you guys over for a couple weeks! Thanks for reading, and enjoy!**

* * *

The Jolly Roger rushed across the sea at breakneck speed— or perhaps it only seemed so fast after days spent sitting upon water still as glass. Regina watched the frothy waves driven as the ship cut through the ocean, closed her eyes and felt seaspray on her face. Wind tore at her hair, but she didn't care. It felt quite nice after the dead calm, as if the winds were as anxious to be moving as she was.

Emma stirred at her side. "Well? What do you say?"

Regina let out a breath she had not realized she'd held and pulled her coat tighter, crossing her arms. "Rumpelstiltskin is more adept at magic than anyone. Why ask me?"

"Is that a serious question?" Emma gave a dry laugh. "You were prepared to sacrifice yourself to buy us time to escape Storybrooke. _He_ convinced my mother to do something terrible to yours just to save his own skin. Who do you _think_ I want to teach me magic?"

Regina shook her head with a humorless smile. "Do you think that one moment makes up for everything I've done?"

"No— but it's a start."

"Emma." She turned to the younger woman, frowning. "Magic is a dangerous path to follow. Why start now?"

"Because you might need me." Emma placed a hand on her arm and leaned in close, speaking low enough that their conversation was kept between themselves and the roaring ocean. "You needed me in the mines— now Henry needs us _both_."

Regina stiffened.

She wondered if Emma knew what they'd done was impossible.

Not implausible, not improbable, not difficult to the point of extreme unlikelihood. _Literally_ impossible.

It had weighed on her mind since they'd dropped through the portal into Neverland, but with Henry missing and their inability to do anything but hope for a breeze, she had pushed the thought aside each time it arose. Now, as they sped toward land, it lifted some worry from her mind and allowed this one to sneak back in.

Nothing should have stopped that crystal.

But could Emma possibly know?

"We'd all be dead right now, if not for you," Regina said quietly.

"If not for _us_," said Emma. "I couldn't have done that alone."

_No_, Regina thought, _you couldn't_.

Regina suspected only she knew. Having constructed the device herself, she was granted a level of comprehension her shipmates lacked. Snow and Charming's grasp of magical theory barely scratched the surface of understanding, Gold would assume she had included a failsafe for the failsafe, which was nothing short of ridiculous, and Emma— though Regina was impressed with her potential— currently wielded magic with the expertise of a six-year-old maneuvering a fighter jet. Any successes were less about control and more the result of sheer stupid luck and instinct.

No. Nothing should have stopped that crystal.

Nothing but…

"I'll do it," she blurted.

"Really?"

Emma's grin made her look like an excited puppy, and Regina found herself growing annoyed. She grabbed the woman's wrist and pulled her close, wiping the grin from her face.

"This isn't a game. Everything I teach you, every spell you cast, will come at a price. Maybe not today or next week, maybe not for years to come. But it is always paid in full, no matter the cost."

Regina dropped her wrist, but held her gaze.

"Are you prepared to pay, Miss Swan?"

Jaw tight and eyes hard, Emma gave a small nod. "For Henry, I'll pay anything."

"What if Henry _is_ the price?"

"You think he'll hate us both for using magic?"

"Me for teaching, and you for learning," said Regina. "If that's the price we pay—"

"Hey, we're here to save the kid's ass. If he's angry, we'll just ground him for a few years." Emma smiled and leaned against the railing, bumping shoulders with her. "We're his mothers, right?"

"Yes, we are." Regina sighed and shook her head, but returned the smile. "I'm not sure if your persistent cheerfulness is refreshing or infuriating."

"Eh, probably both."

Regina chuckled, and the two women looked out upon the open ocean, scanning the horizon for any smudge of land that may hold their son.

Nothing could have stopped that crystal but true love.

Regina's stomach tightened at the unbidden thought.

There were signs, of course, clear enough for any with the knowledge to read them. She had an inkling when they opened the portal together months ago, but she ignored it. Suppressed it. _Daniel_ had been her true love, and he was gone— for good. That was difficult enough to accept. But to think it wasn't him, had _never_ been him, that what she _felt_ for him was a brief, fleeting glimpse of the real thing…

She had poured all her strength into Daniel, every last ounce. Regina struggled to understand how she could give any more.

What would be left of her when it was all ripped away?

_When_, not _if_. It frightened her that she was so accustomed to thinking in such absolutes, but the precedent for failure had been set long ago. Daniel was murdered, she had killed her own father to fuel a curse that did not work, even the happiest moments with her mother were the scant few seconds before she died. All three had died in her arms. All three deaths were, to different degrees, on her hands.

All who loved her perished.

And now she was supposed to love this woman because— what? Destiny demanded it? Destiny would simply see her dead as well.

Sometimes it was very hard to have hope.

Regina's brow furrowed, and she stole a glance at Emma. The younger woman had her collar turned up against the wind, and she looked for all the world like a blonde little turtle peeking out of its black fleece shell. Emma caught her eye and smiled. Regina offered a distracted smile in return, acutely aware of their physical closeness, how Emma subtly leaned into her body.

Hope.

She found it difficult to have hope.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her reluctance to consider the situation, her hesitance to open herself to vulnerability… it wasn't because of Daniel, or her mother and father. It wasn't because of Emma, or that she was Snow White's daughter, or Henry's birthmother, or even that she was a woman.

It was because Regina was afraid it wasn't real.

And with a flutter in her stomach, she realized she hoped it _was_.

"Regina… are you okay?"

Regina started. "I'm fine," she said slowly. "Just… just tired, I suppose."

"You looked pretty out of it there. Why don't you go lay down?"

"No, I'm all right." She smiled at Emma. "I like the company."

Emma smiled back. "Me too."

It could have meant anything, but for once, Regina chose to believe she didn't have to be alone after all.

~.-*-.~

On board the Jolly Roger's deck that afternoon, Emma and Regina faced each other beneath a blazing sun, though the wind that drove them onwards kept the weather pleasantly cool. They were joined by Snow White, Charming, and Mr. Gold; even Hook, at the helm, kept sneaking glances. Emma felt awkward with an audience. Worse still, her parents kept yelling encouragement as though she were an eight-year-old in a ballet recital.

Her only consolation was that Regina seemed equally put off.

"Concentrate on your emotions, Emma," she said. "Learn to shut out external distractions."

Regina directed a pointed look at the cheering section, and Snow and Charming fell quiet.

Brow knit, Emma closed her eyes and flexed her fingers. She imagined Henry, felt her chest both tighten and swell with emotion, then pictured Greg and Tamara; white-hot anger smoldered in her belly, and she willed the raw power to ignite in her palm. Her muscles tensed, tendons taut as rope.

"Relax," said Regina. "Don't force it."

"I'm not taking a shit, Regina," she snapped.

"_Emma_."

"Shut it, please."

Emma took a slow, deep breath and exhaled, rolling her shoulders. She held out her hands, palms up, and pictured flames that sprung to life at her command. Regina did it so easily, like she plucked the fire out of thin air. She felt the very blood coursing through her veins, beating in her ears. Frustration welled up alongside her anger.

Nothing happened.

"_Fuck_!"

Emma stomped on the deck and dragged her fingers through her tangled hair, only to have the wind toss it across her face again. She threw her hands in the air and growled something completely unintelligible.

On the sideline, Snow White and Charming exchanged concerned looks, but Regina's only reaction was a quirked eyebrow, as if she was unimpressed with a child's tantrum. She strode up to Emma and tilted the younger woman's chin so their eyes met.

"We'll try again," she said. "This time with a touch more patience."

"But I've done _more_!" Emma said. "I helped you shut down the crystal! So why can't I make a stupid _fireball_?"

Emma looked to the older woman pleadingly, but Regina merely pursed her lips.

"You're going about this the wrong way, dearies."

They both turned to Gold, who sat on a crate, hands clasped around the head of his cane. He had thus far remained quiet during their lesson, which Emma found unusual. What did he know that they didn't?

"I believe she asked _me_ to teach her," Regina said.

"That's all well and good, your majesty," said Gold, "but if you keep this up, you'll exhaust the poor girl with nothing to show for the effort."

Regina gave a tight-lipped smile. "And what, pray tell, do you suggest?"

Gold pulled himself up, leaning heavily on his cane, and moved between them. He nodded toward Emma. "She's got magic in her, there's no doubt, but she doesn't share the same dark desire that elevated us to power, does she, m'dear? She's begun with something more pure."

Regina's face went slack. "She isn't."

"Think about it."

The older woman turned to Emma and frowned, mouth twisted in a confused sort of realization. "She's a white mage."

"Quite so."

Emma's eyes flicked back and forth between them.

"I've never even met one," said Regina.

"I have. A few, in fact, in my admittedly strange travels," said Gold. "She fits the bill."

"Could you maybe not discuss me like I'm a science experiment?" Emma finally said. "What the hell is a white mage?"

"There are two kinds of magic, black and white. Black magic is destructive and derives from anger, hatred, greed— negative emotions." Regina glanced at Gold, then took a breath she quickly blew out through her nose. "White magic is restorative and draws its power from positive emotion, but it's quite rare outside of fairy-kind. Few mortals possess the purity of heart to cast it."

"Wait a minute," said Emma. "Are you saying I'm a goddamn _fairy_?"

"Certainly not. I would hate to question your parents' heritage."

Emma crossed her arms and shot Regina a green-eyed glare.

"Regardless," Regina continued cooly, "you bear no relation to any fairies. You're just an exceptional goody-two-shoes."

"Gee, thanks."

Regina's face softened, her posture relaxing. "I'm sorry, I was only teasing. But suffice to say, you won't be conjuring any fireballs."

"Now, dearies." Gold waved his cane at them and reclaimed his seat. "Try your spellcasting again with this newfound enlightenment."

Emma and Regina took up their dueling stances again. Knowing she was a white mage, much of the magic she had performed suddenly made sense. Something in Emma's brain clicked into place, and she easily remembered how it felt to wake Henry from his sleeping curse, to blast Cora off her feet, to throw up the barrier around Gold's shop. She hopped from foot to foot like a boxer raring to fight and saw Regina quickly hide a smile.

"White magic is, by nature, defensive," the older woman said. "It protects and supports. If black magic is the sword, then white is the shield."

Regina whipped her hand out and a bright orange flame blossomed in her palm; she flexed her fingers, allowing it flare.

"White magic is a challenge I don't envy," she continued, "for no matter how angry you are, it is imperative you focus on positive emotion or your spells will fail."

Another gout of flame burst alive in her other hand, licking at her fingers. Regina raised her arms.

"Stop my fireballs."

"Whoa, hang on!" cried Emma. "Regina!"

Snow and Charming rose to their feet, prepared to tackle Regina into submission; Mr Gold simply leaned forward as if watching a particularly intense chess match.

"Don't you dare set my ship on fire!" Hook's voice drifted from the helm.

Emma threw the older woman a panicked look, but with no further warning, Regina mouthed "_you can do it_" and launched her fireballs.

A thousand things rushed through Emma's mind, and as she met Regina's eyes, she remembered looking into the same tear-streaked face in Storybrooke's mines, the overwhelming force of their combined power an electric buzz in her skin and muscles, and in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to protect this woman who would protect them all. Without conscious thought, Emma threw her hands above her head and a translucent dome sprung up, a bubble of pure blue energy. The fireballs struck it and puffed into smoke. Embers ricocheted off its surface and bounced across the deck, where the others were quick to stomp them out at Hook's frantic request.

Emma gaped and dropped her hands, and the dome fell away.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

Regina approached her with an air of calm Emma certainly did not feel. Her hands tingled with residual energy, and even in the sunlight, she could swear she saw a faint blue glow fading from her fingertips.

"Well done, Miss Swan."

Emma's heart still hammered in her chest; she plopped onto a crate and leaned heavily on her knees. "You could have killed me!" she panted.

"I knew I wouldn't."

"How the hell could you _know_?!'

Regina sat beside her on the crate, a snug fit for two people, and rested a hand on Emma's shoulder. "Because I know _you_."

Emma stared at her, recalling a day not long ago when she spoke the same words, shortly before she'd wrongfully lost trust in the older woman. Maybe now was the time to retain it. After all, Regina clearly believed in _her_. Emma gave a breathless laugh and rested her face in her hands.

"Your teaching methods are a little hardcore for me."

"I'll keep things tame next time." Regina moved her hand to Emma's arm and gently squeezed it. "Be proud of what you have, Emma. It's a rare gift."

Emma lifted her head. "Can't black magic be used for good too?"

Regina gave her a smile that seemed almost sad. She held out her hand, and a flame ignited and danced in her cupped palm. "What good can I do with this?"

Emma wondered how she held the fire without burning her own hand. She reached out with tentative fingers.

"I don't know— toasting marshmallows?"

Regina laughed softly and pulled her hand away, extinguishing the flame as she closed her fist. A thin wisp of smoke escaped between her fingers.

"Even the best intentions can be led astray," she said. "Remember that, Emma."


	3. Chapter 3

"Laaaand hoooo!"

Hook's voice rang out across the deck. To Emma Swan, that phrase could not have sounded any more beautiful if sung by a chorus of angels. This spoke volumes of her growing hatred for life on the open sea, as Hook was far down the ladder from an angel and fell somewhere between the Boston construction workers who extolled the virtues of her ass and the bail dodger who mistook her for a prostitute and grabbed her tits.

She'd slapped on the cuffs extra hard that time.

A smudge appeared on the horizon, little more than a cloudbank to the careless eye. As they approached, the smudge grew, black and craggy against the blue sky. The slapdash little crew congregated on the deck and pressed to the railing. A silence fell over them. The island seemed to rise from the ocean itself— an illusion, of course, but an unsettling greeting nonetheless.

Emma could make out a treeline and sharp peaks that rose above it like the jagged edge of broken glass. She almost swore she saw a dark shape with broad wings whirl above the canopy and dive into the forest, but her eyes were tired, aching from the sun. She could just as easily be losing her mind.

Sometimes she wondered if she hadn't lost it already.

Regina stood at her side, brow furrowed. The look she fixed upon the island was not curiosity, but a calculated examination, a challenge. Woe be to those who crossed her son. Emma intended to kick some ass, but Greg and Tamara perhaps had more to fear from Regina. Emma loved Henry, but Regina had loved him longer.

"It reminds me of my old castle," she finally said.

Emma threw a sidelong glance at Regina, then looked back to the island and its towering black mountains reaching for the sky like claws, imposing and cold. She cleared her throat.

"Your castle was fucking scary."

"Yes," Regina said, "it was."

There was displeasure in her voice— for her past, for herself, likely both. Emma felt a twinge in her chest. She liked Regina. She liked her a lot. And she wondered when Regina had last liked _herself_.

"You never scared me, you know."

Regina smiled. "I figured that out quite some time ago."

Emma grinned, but when she turned back to the island, her face fell.

"What do you think's out there? Why would they bring Henry here?"

"I don't know," Regina murmured. "I can't imagine what runs through their twisted heads."

Emma watched her, and though Regina's face was impassive, there was a hint of anger in the lines of her mouth, and something else deep-seated. Something cold and hard. Emma licked her lips and looked down at her hands. She hadn't seen Regina in the fishery warehouse back in Storybrooke, but what her parents told her left an impression. Straps, electrodes, some kind of shock machine… What were these people?

Emma took a breath, then touched the older woman's arm.

"Regina… how bad did they hurt you?"

Regina visibly stiffened, her jaw tight. She threw a hesitant glance at Emma and looked quickly away again. Emma suspected that beneath the gloves, her knuckles were as white as ice.

"Hook?" Charming called from the starboard side of the ship. "There's a boat out there!"

All activity immediately shifted starboard. Beside her, Regina let out a shuddering breath. Emma gently squeezed her arm, and the older woman gave her a quick nod of assurance. _I'm fine_, it said— but Emma read otherwise in her eyes. She touched Regina's shoulder, and they both moved to join the others.

Charming was pointing out at the ocean, and it took Emma several moments before she spotted a tiny vessel amongst the sparkling waves. Sunspots danced before her eyes as she squinted. It was barely larger than a rowboat, and it was coming their way.

"Welcoming party?" Snow White said hopefully.

At the helm, Hook peered through his telescope and growled in frustration. "Stow the sails!" he yelled, snapping the telescope closed and stuffing it in his pocket. "Lay anchor! We're about to have guests."

"Friends of yours?" said Emma.

"Acquaintances."

"I take it they aren't here to help."

"Not in your wildest dreams." Hook spared another look for the approaching craft, then went to give Charming a hand with the anchor.

As she and Regina wrestled with the sails, Emma was acutely aware that none of them were armed. It left her feeling as good as naked. She wondered how much time they had— if she could scrounge through the lower deck for some daggers or something. What she really missed was her gun. Although, by arming up, they would also present themselves as a bigger threat and things might go south from there. Emma tied off the rigging and anxiously debated. Maybe it was best to come off innocuous; it had helped her many times as a bail bondsman. No one suspected the cute blonde until she had a knee between their shoulder blades and cuffs on their wrists.

And of course, she always had her magic.

She touched Regina's arm. "Be ready to start chucking fireballs."

"You read my mind."

Grim-faced, the women moved to the railing. Hooded figures sat hunched in the little boat, dark and featureless. If one of them whipped out a scythe, Emma decided she would scream. Best possible course of action.

"Maybe they…" Regina started and trailed off, pursing her lips.

"What?"

"I just thought they might be returning Henry to us." Regina gave a derisive laugh and shook her head. "Maybe things could be simple for once."

Emma didn't think so. "It doesn't hurt to hope."

"Sometimes it does."

The closer the boat approached, the more defined its passengers became. A couple were tall and lanky, but the others were short. Thin arms dipped paddles into the water with practiced movement. As they neared the Jolly Roger, the figure sitting in the prow pushed back its hood. A little girl with a face younger than Henry's stared up at them.

"They're _children_!" said Regina.

"Yeah," said Hook. "Downright precious."

"We're flipping our shit over _kids_?" Emma said.

"Yes, we are, and it's shit rightfully flipped. Leave the talking to me."

A glance was shared between the Enchanted Forest denizens. Emma was oddly reassured that, even coming from a land where ogres, fairies, and magic goddamn beans were commonplace, her parents, Regina, and Gold were not immune to the weirdness of the situation.

"Are you sure you recognize these kids?" she said. "Maybe they just need help."

Hook laughed, but he didn't seem very amused. "Believe me, my darling Swan, these little ones are just as capable as us."

Another group glance. Charming drew Snow to his side; his hand hovered over his hip, and Emma knew he sorely missed his sword. Regina and Mr. Gold had twitchy fingers, ready to call up some hellfire if matters went downhill. Emma just hoped she could pop another force field.

"Ahoy there!" Hook called to the children. "If you'll hang on just a tick, we'll throw down a rope and—"

Two grappling hooks struck the railing— _thuck-THUNK_— and sent the adults stumbling backwards. Hook let out a pained noise.

"Great, no, that's much better. Well done."

Hook whined as he watched the metal splintering his ship's deck.

The little girl and a taller associate shimmied up the rope like squirrels up a tree. The tall child was a boy, maybe in his early teens; as he clambered onto the deck, Emma caught a glimpse of a tomahawk beneath his cloak, its stone head stained reddish-brown. Her stomach clenched. Dark eyes flicked in her direction and he swished his cloak over the weapon, concealing it.

"We're surprised to see you again, Captain," the little girl said. She stood prim and proper, good posture and hands folded, but her hair was a mess of wild curls and dirt smudged her face and caked her fingernails.

"There was a bit of an emergency. This was highly unplanned, milady, I assure you."

"You brought friends." The girl turned hard eyes on the Enchanted Foresters.

Emma felt an unexpected shiver. These weren't kids. They _looked_ like kids, but something was very off. She inched closer to Regina and noted how the older woman's fingers flexed and curled.

"A search party of sorts," said Hook. "A boy's gone missing."

The girl laughed, shrill and harsh. "There are _many_ missing children on our island."

"This one's a bit unique. He was brought here by two adults, a man and woman, four days ago."

The girl's smile faded and her brow creased. "I don't know anything about a boy or any grown-ups besides the six I see here, and that is six too many. Leave, before we make you leave."

Hook looked nervously to his fellow grown-ups and cleared his throat. "I… _we_ can't do that. The boy's important. If you could return to your good leader and explain our predicament—"

"Idiot!" The boy, who had thus far remained the silent bodyguard, growled at Hook. "Who do you think sent us? Let's kill them, Delilah. We can take the ship!"

The boy's hand went to his stained tomahawk and the adults tensed. Emma saw Regina's fingers glow orange-red, tiny sparks floating from the tips.

The little girl, Delilah— despite her small size— stayed the boy's hand, and he backed down like a scolded puppy. "We follow orders— _for now_. It's true, though. Your ship was spotted days ago. We've been expecting you."

"Whoa, whoa, hold up." Emma broke her silence and stepped forward, and Hook attempted to interrupt her, but she barreled on. "We've been in the middle of the ocean, and yours is the first boat we've seen. Who the hell saw us?"

"Peter Pan can _fly_," Delilah said with pride, as though Emma should be honored to hear the name spoken aloud.

"Some creeper's been _spying_ on us?"

Delilah scowled. "Watch your tongue, woman."

"Listen, _kid_—"

"_Okay_!" Hook inserted himself between them and none too gently ushered Emma backwards. "I believe both parties understand each other's intentions, yes? But the fact of the matter is, we need the boy. My humble apologies, Lady Delilah, but we won't be leaving without him."

"Regrettable," she said, and Hook shifted under her gaze. "If you set one foot upon the island, Peter Pan will begin a game of hide-and-seek."

"That's it?" said Emma. "_That's_ your threat?"

Hook shot her a glare.

"When we find you, we get to kill you," Delilah said brightly, "and when you're all dead, we'll take your ship."

The adults were silent. Emma's bravado deflated.

"What if we find the boy first?" Regina said quietly.

All eyes turned to Regina, and Delilah's twinkled with excitement. "A contest? You'll lose."

"Perhaps we won't."

"All right," said Delilah. "If you manage to collect this boy before we kill you all, you're free to leave. Deal?"

Hook chuckled nervously and held up a finger. "No one is making any deals—"

"Deal," said Regina.

Delilah spat in her tiny hand and held it out. Regina pulled off a glove and spat in her own palm, and woman and child shook, sealing the agreement. Hook groaned and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"The game starts when you step on the island. I'll inform Peter Pan of the new rules," Delilah said. Her bodyguard climbed down the rope and returned to the boat, and Delilah moved to follow him, but paused as she straddled the railing. She flashed a toothy grin at Emma. "Your hair is really pretty. I think I'll cut it off before I kill you."

With that, she disappeared down the rope.

Emma sputtered, but the boat was already rowing away.

"Congratulations— you've pissed off the Lost Ones." Hook clapped her on the back. "Now the fun starts."

.~.-*-.~.

Night did not improve the view of Neverland.

If anything, it was worse. Darkness suited the island. A pervasive silence engulfed it like a held breath. Moonlight did little to illuminate its tangled forests and black mountains. It was as if the island existed in a vacuum, untouched by outside light and sound. Even the ocean waves seemed hesitant to touch its shore.

Regina stood at the railing and ran her fingers along the splintered grooves left by the grappling hooks.

Somewhere on that island, Henry was held captive by the same man who watched her body convulse with a smile, by the same woman who named her unholy. Was this her punishment for surviving? Did they think to hurt her through her son? If so, they were right. Nothing could cut more deeply than Henry's pain.

She would endure their torture a thousand times over to see Henry safe.

All she had wanted for him was a normal life. A happy life. The life that was taken from her. Regina wished he never learned of the Enchanted Forest or magic or her curse— she wished he never knew her as the Evil Queen. If she tried, she could delude herself into believing this was the Charmings' faults or Gold's or the entire damn kingdom, but ultimately, she chose her own path long ago. She had none to blame but herself.

Now Henry might die for her sins.

Regina hung her head and gripped the railing so hard, her fingers ached. Her mouth twisted and a ragged sob escaped; she quickly stifled it, lest her shipmates heard her in the quiet of the night. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks and fell into the black water below. Her reflection stared up from the waves, accusing, and she shut her eyes.

"Regina…?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Regina wiped a hurried hand across her cheeks and hoped the dim light hid her puffy eyes.

"What?" she said tersely.

Emma sidled up beside her and leaned against the railing, but Regina kept a resolute gaze on the island, refusing to meet the younger woman's eyes. She hated to be caught crying; it was like being naked and exposed, and it filled her with the same embarrassment.

"I heard you get up, and you were gone for a while. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Regina wet her lips and blinked her reddened eyes. "I'm fine."

Even out of the corner of her eye, should could plainly see the annoyance on Emma's face. The younger woman pushed herself away from the railing.

"Look, if you want me out of here, just say the word. I'll go back to bed," said Emma. "But don't tell me you're fine when you look like hell."

Regina's vision blurred and a tear left a hot streak down her cheek. She turned to Emma; her face was drawn with concern. Regina's lip trembled and she swallowed hard to steady her breath, but when she opened her mouth to speak, a thousand words on her mind, all she could say was, "_Emma_," and the sound came out chased by a sob.

"Whoa, whoa— hey, it's all right." Emma opened her arms, and Regina gladly fell into them, burying her face into her neck, blonde hair tickling her nose. "It's okay, I'm here."

Regina tried to suppress her sobs, but her chest ached and burned, her throat painfully tight, so she let them out, breathless and muffled by Emma's shoulder. Her whole body shivered against Emma's and the younger woman's strong arms encircled her tighter. She felt small in Emma's embrace. Despite their days at sea, her blonde hair was soft and smelled of the sun and briny wind, and Regina clung to her as if she feared she would let go.

Regina squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears fall. As Emma held her, her shaking breaths subsided, reduced to the occasional sniffle. Suddenly, she was aware her arms were around Emma's waist, her lips an inch from her neck, and her brain frantically slammed a panic button. Regina pulled away and hugged her arms tight across her chest, eyes downcast and awkward.

"Don't you dare say you're fine," said Emma.

Regina shook her head.

"Henry?" Emma ventured.

"Yes."

Emma dug a tissue out of her coat pocket and offered it to her. Regina dried her stinging eyes and cheeks and blew her nose, then nervously plucked at the tissue in her hands. Emma raised an expectant eyebrow.

Regina licked her lips and took a slow breath. "You asked how badly they hurt me."

"Regina…"

"If you and your parents hadn't come looking, I'd be dead."

Emma clenched her fists and worked her jaw.

"It was like I wasn't human to them," she continued. "I was a cockroach, and they were the exterminators."

"They're sick fucks," Emma growled.

"And now they have my son— _our_ son. I won't let them hurt him, but…" Regina swallowed and felt her chest tighten again. "I've killed so many people, Emma. Countless sons and daughters and mothers and fathers, with no thought of who would miss them or the lives I destroyed. Why should I be spared this pain? Maybe I deserve it."

"Regina, I know there are no excuses for what you've done, but it doesn't mean you deserve what these shitbags are dishing out. They're _insane_."

"I killed Greg's father," said Regina. "When I created Storybrooke, they were caught within the boundaries of the town, and… well. His father didn't make it out alive."

"That was decades ago," Emma said. "You've changed."

"He has every right to hurt me. I'd do the same."

"And you know better than anyone that vengeance only causes more misery. Doesn't it?" Emma asked sharply. "Or can you really tell me you're happy?"

Regina shrunk from the younger woman. There was a time when no one had dared speak to her in such tones, when those who did disappeared from their homes and found their way to her dungeons, or worse. She thought it was best those times were gone.

"I'm not happy," she mumbled.

"No kidding."

"But I was glad I killed his father," Regina said, her voice shaky. "I _savored_ telling Greg he was dead. The look on his face… after the pain and humiliation he put me through— it was worth it for the look in his eyes. What kind of person does that make me?"

Emma studied her for a moment, and Regina held her gaze, albeit with some difficulty. Those green eyes made her spine feel like jelly, like Emma could read her thoughts as easily as if they were written on her face.

"If they hurt Henry, I'll kill them," she finally said. There was no anger or hatred in her words; it was a matter-of-fact statement, cold in its finality. "I might even— no. I _know_ I'll enjoy it. And that scares me."

"Then how do we stop ourselves?"

"I guess that's the real question, isn't it? Maybe Greg and Tamara got to where they're at because they _couldn't_ stop themselves. Maybe you couldn't either, until now. The thing is, Regina, we all have some darkness in our hearts." Emma caught her eyes again and gave a half-smile. "You're not alone."

Regina's cheeks stung from tears and the cold wind blowing in off the ocean, and her lips were chapped and dry, but she managed a smile too. "You've never seemed particularly dark."

Emma shrugged. "I don't believe _anyone_ is some lily-white figure of perfection. White mage or not, nobody's gonna nominate me for sainthood."

Regina chuckled softly.

"You can't forget the bad stuff, though, no matter how much it hurts," Emma said. "It helped shaped who you are. For better or for worse, it's a part of you. You just have to make sure it's for the better."

Regina's heart pounded in her chest. There was something she wasn't telling Emma, something she wasn't certain she could bring herself to say plainly— but it was in her mind and on her tongue, and she wanted it in the open before it drove her crazy. True love. If it was meant to be, she had nothing to fear, but the thought of rejection picked at her nerves nonetheless. Regina steeled herself and edged closer, though her muscles felt like water.

"Emma," she said, her voice wavering. "You… you make me want to try for the better."

"You could probably choose a better role model who hasn't done jail time," she laughed.

"No," Regina said, "not like that."

The butterflies in her stomach were doing their best to climb her throat. Putting the matter into words was far beyond her current capability. She hesitantly closed her hand over Emma's, met her eyes, and hoped to whatever powers that be that Emma understood.

A tiny light seemed to switch on in Emma's head; her eyes widened slightly and her mouth moved without sound for a moment until she found her voice. "I, uh… Regina. I didn't know you were— I mean, I never really thought about…"

Regina's courage deserted her, fleeing like a jackrabbit to its warren. Her knees suddenly felt very weak. What had she expected? A heartfelt confession, a _kiss_? This was a mistake. She backed away and wrung her hands.

"I'm sorry. I— I shouldn't have said anything, I—"

She turned to retreat belowdeck, but Emma caught her arm.

"Hey. It's all right," she said, her face flushed bright pink. "You, uh… you just caught me off guard, okay?"

Regina wanted nothing more than to hide beneath a rock, or perhaps jump overboard, but she stood rooted on the spot, staring intently at the deck's worn planking. "Okay."

"Give me some time to think." Emma offered her a dorky smile. "I feel like you just dropped a piano on my head."

"I'm sorry, Emma, really—"

"You don't need to apologize. And, Regina?"

"Yes?"

Emma leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry too much."

It was Regina's turn to be speechless. Emma smiled again and stuffed her hands in her pockets, then scurried belowdeck. Regina stared after her, the wind whipping at her coat and hair, and tried to decide if this was a fever dream or if that had really just happened.

She blinked, touched her forehead, and allowed herself a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

The forest was a blur of grey trees and withered leaves.

Henry stumbled between Greg and Tamara as they pulled him along an indeterminable path. He didn't know where they were going, and he didn't think his captors knew either.

They were unwilling to slow their pace. Though tired, Henry didn't argue. There was something wrong with this forest, something that drove him to put one foot in front of the other despite his aching feet and growling tummy. Not just the death and decay of the trees, but a prickly feeling on his neck, where the hairs stood on end. A heavy feeling like something bad was coming, but he didn't know when or where, just that it was.

"We should have seen someone by now," Greg said.

In the forest's unnatural silence, his voice was loud but didn't travel, suppressed by the dense thicket of branches.

"How do you figure that?" asked Tamara.

"We've been traipsing through these damn woods for _days_. If there was someone here, we'd have seen them."

"Maybe they don't want to be seen."

Greg was quiet.

"Maybe they've seen us," Tamara said.

"Then they'd know we have the boy. Peter Pan should have contacted us by now."

"Why do you want to talk to Peter Pan?" asked Henry.

Usually, Greg was annoyed when Henry spoke, but perhaps the silence was getting to him, or he needed to voice his thoughts to work them out. Whatever the reason, he pushed onward without a word of rebuke.

"Peter Pan is the most powerful being our organization knows of, and _he_ wants _you_," Greg said, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "If _he_ wants you, _we_ want you. But we won't know _why_ he wants you until we have a little heart-to-heart."

"Your organization's stupid."

Greg snorted. "What?"

"They're wrong. Nobody's more powerful than Mr. Gold— and he's my grandpa," said Henry with a smirk. "And my mom, she's a sorceress queen. My other mom's the savior, and _her_ parents are a knight and a huntress. They'll come for me. Then you'll be sorry you ever brought me here."

As he gave his speech, Henry felt bolder and taller, and by the time he finished, he bet he could strike down Greg in a duel all by himself. Never mind that he didn't have a sword— he'd do it somehow. He was a Mills _and _a Charming, and you didn't mess with the Mills or Charmings.

You just _didn't_.

Greg stopped and laughed. He had Henry by the arm, and as his grip tightened, Henry gulped. Greg got down on one knee and stared Henry in the eye, and Henry was scared all of a sudden, but he didn't back down. Mom wouldn't; Emma wouldn't. His family taught him it was okay to be scared, but it wasn't okay to let people hurt you. He set his jaw and clenched his fists and glared right back.

"Believe me, little man," said Greg, "your mom wasn't very powerful when I had her strapped to a table."

Greg smiled, showing teeth.

Henry had never really experienced true anger. When Regina did something bad, he was more sad and disappointed than anything. When his mothers fought, he was just frustrated, knowing they could accomplish so much more working together. Anger, he figured, didn't do anyone any good.

But now, hearing Greg brag about hurting his mom, _smile_ about it, as if he _liked_ it— Henry felt his face grow hot. His ears buzzed. His fingers curled into tight little fists.

"To her credit, she never screamed," Greg said. "I really wanted to hear her scream."

As Greg stood back up, Henry punched him in the groin.

The man doubled over, wheezing and cursing, but it wasn't enough for Henry. Vision blurry, he kicked Greg in the shin and felt himself yanked backwards by Tamara.

"You little shit!" said Greg.

Henry struggled in Tamara's grasp, but she had her arms locked around his chest. He swung his fists at empty air. "Mom's a better person than you'll _ever_ be!"

"She's a murderous _bitch_—"

"_She isn't_!"

"— and you're the little mongrel _son_ of a murderous bitch." Greg shoved his shoulder hard, and Henry stumbled against Tamara. "I hope she _does_ come looking for you. I want to see her face when I tell her you're dead."

"Greg, enough," said Tamara.

"Then I'll put a gun to her head. She won't come out of _that_ alive."

"Enough!" Tamara barked.

Greg's eyes slid toward the woman, and he gave a quizzical jerk of his head. "There a problem?"

"He's just a kid. You're gonna scare him shitless."

"He's as much an abomination as his mother. Maybe worse— why else would Pan want him?"

"We'll worry about that when we find him." Tamara pulled a length of nylon cord from her backpack and wrapped Henry's wrists tight behind his back. "In the meantime, I'd rather the kid wasn't so pissed off, he's ready to knock out your teeth."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Henry grumbled.

Tamara gave him a shake. "Don't make me gag you, too."

But Henry was no longer listening. He stared over Greg's shoulder, up at the skeletal grey trees and their bare, twisting branches. Tamara followed his gaze and her face fell. Greg frowned and slowly turned around.

"Peter Pan doesn't like it when grown-ups mistreat children."

A little boy sat on a branch, swinging his legs. His face was mostly shaded by a hood, but they could see his smile. Another child swung up next to him, leaping through the trees like a monkey. Two more appeared in trees to their left, three more on the right, and as Greg and Tamara whirled around, they found the path cut off as two children settled on the branches behind them.

Henry kept his eyes on the first boy, wavering between fear and hope of rescue.

"It's not fair, y'know?" the boy said. He was barefoot, the soles of his feet black with dirt and grime. He wiggled his toes and grinned, and Henry saw the glint of his eyes beneath the hood. "You grown-ups are so big and we're so small."

Greg swung his head from side to side, trying to keep an eye on all the children at once. He laughed incredulously and rubbed his chin. "Look, little guy. We're here to see Peter. I bet he knows we have this kid, doesn't he?"

"Peter Pan knows everything."

"Were you sent to bring us to him?" asked Tamara.

The boy grinned again. "Sorta."

Two children dropped from the trees and hit the ground in a crouch, leaves crunching beneath their feet, puffs of grey dust rising from the forest floor. The other children followed, lithe and agile, and slunk towards the adults like jungle cats. They made no noise, not even a rustle of their cloaks. They were shadows; they were ghosts.

What Henry _did_ hear was a quick _thwip-thwip_.

He looked up at Greg and Tamara. They frowned and patted at their necks. With a wince, Greg plucked a tiny dart from his skin and stared at it. He wobbled, then snarled at the boy in the tree. "You damn little—"

Greg stumbled like he just stepped off the teacup ride from Disney World. Henry jumped out of the way as the man crashed to his knees and hit the ground like a felled tree.

_Timber_, Henry thought.

Tamara quickly followed suit, though she pawed at the ground, trying to stand, until finally she stopped moving.

Henry stood in the center of a ring of hooded children. He spotted two who held thin reed blowguns and offered them a nervous smile. "Good aim."

Their expressions remained passive, as far as he could tell.

The little boy in the tree jumped down, and the circle parted as he moved towards Henry. He was shorter than Henry, but somehow he didn't think the boy was younger.

"Can you climb trees?" the boy asked.

Henry looked at the children around him. "Not like you guys."

"Hm. You'll walk."

"Where are we going?"

"Peter Pan's camp."

"Um. What about them?" Henry pointed at Greg and Tamara's inert forms.

"We'll drag 'em if we must. Peter will have questions when they wake up."

The boy gestured to his companions and the children descended on the adults, hoisting them on their small shoulders. Henry looked to the boy and caught a glimpse of blue eyes and shaggy black hair peeking out beneath the hood. The boy grinned.

"That's the problem with grown-ups, y'know? They underestimate how strong we are."

Two children appeared at Henry's sides and snicked the cord that bound his wrists with stone knives. They held his hands, and even though their grip was light, Henry had the sinking feeling he was no more free with these kids than with Greg and Tamara.

.~.-*-.~.

The mid-morning sun saw Emma, Regina, and Hook disembark from the Jolly Roger.

Their little rowboat rode the waves and swells and drew closer to the island, an ant approaching a behemoth. The black mountains towered over them, jagged spires that ripped apart the skyline, demanding attention. And they received it. Emma could not take her eyes off the peaks. They felt like a warning; turn back or keep sailing, but don't stop— there is no safe harbor here.

Trees struggled for purchase on the lower slopes, growing at odd angles between the rocks, trunks twisted and grey. Higher up, sickly green shrubs dotted the rockface, and higher still, plant-life gave up altogether, surrendering to the sharp cliffs and broken ridges.

Below it all swept a vast forest like none Emma had ever seen. The foliage was yellow-green and brown and grey, confined to an upper canopy. Trunks grew like black stakes, riddled with thick bare branches. It was like the forest was dying from the bottom up.

If they wanted to navigate those forests unscathed, Hook insisted they meet with an old friend of his. Just her and Regina, Henry's mothers, with Hook as their envoy.

Emma trailed her fingers in the water until the cold numbed them.

She didn't entirely trust any plan devised by Hook, but they had little other choice. No one was willing to plunge blindly into the forest and hope for the best. Even discounting the Lost Ones, they could wind up lost and starving, eating bugs and tree bark. Or each other.

Emma pulled her fingers from the water and rubbed the life back into them. She'd felt ice warmer than this. She had no idea where they were latitudinally on this world, but the water felt arctic.

Was it just her, or was it getting colder the closer they got to the island?

She shoved that unsettling thought from her mind and glanced at the bow, where Regina sat, eyes glued to the shore. As if she felt herself being watched, Regina turned and— caught staring— both women quickly looked away.

Great. Not awkward at all.

Emma sighed through her nose and pushed the hair out of her face. It was difficult to think of Regina when Henry was on the line, but she had promised. This wasn't a situation that would solve itself if ignored. A _situation_— she felt bad calling it that. Leroy starting a bar fight was a situation; Ruby going primal all up in the butcher's meat locker was a situation. This was Regina baring her soul in a way she'd never seen.

Emma couldn't deny she found the older woman attractive. She'd snuck her fair share of glances at Regina's boobs and ass over the past two years. Hell, she'd _been_ with a woman for a few months, years ago, but it hadn't worked out. Of course, Emma had a long line of relationships that didn't work out. She could write a book. _Relationships and How to End Them Before They Start_.

Regardless of Emma's wandering eyes, what Regina suggested last night was not merely physical. _That_ was something Emma had never considered. She liked Regina, she really did. That was pretty damn impressive, in light of everything they'd done to each other. She understood Regina in a way that Mary Margaret did not, in a way Gold and David and all of Storybrooke didn't. Emma saw her as Regina, not the Evil Queen. And she was proud of her, _so_ proud, for trying to change— and thus far succeeding.

And kissing her last night felt right, even if it was just a quick peck on the forehead. She could see the two of them doing more. A _lot_ more.

But… did she have _feelings_ for her?

"What's on your mind, Swan?"

Emma jolted to attention and found Hook watching her as he rowed. She hoped he couldn't read minds.

"Henry," she said. Sure, that sounded convincing enough. "This stupid island. What's stopping a bunch of kids from running out of the trees and going Lord of the Flies on our asses."

"Don't believe I understand the reference," said Hook. "Who's this Lord of Flies? A vicious nobleman of legend?"

Regina turned around and smirked behind Hook's back. Emma hid a smile.

"Uh, yeah, you nailed it," Emma said.

"Ah, well, allow me to allay your fears. The Lost Ones will only kill us if we set foot on the island. They're quite to-the-letter about their games, y'see, and we are _not_ setting foot on the island— we are rowing into the lagoon and setting foot on a large rock."

"You don't think they'll consider that close enough?"

"The Lost Ones are no threat today, I assure you," said Hook. "And if I'm wrong, we'll all be dead and beyond caring."

"Ever the optimist," Regina muttered.

"And your friend's gonna meet us there?"

"_Friend_ is such a strong word," said Hook. "Let's call her a former associate."

Emma and Regina shared a frown.

"On how good of terms did you part ways?" asked Regina.

"Arrows were fired."

"Fuck," said Emma.

"Oh, come now, no worries!" Hook said. "That's why I have you two lovely ladies to accompany me— a diversion."

"You're a dog," said Regina.

"You're dog _shit_," said Emma.

"Sticks and stones, darlings, sticks and stones," Hook said. "I know Tiger Lily. She'll not turn aside two mothers seeking their son— no matter how badly she wants to make a pincushion of me."

"Tiger Lily, huh?" said Emma. "That's quite the name."

"She's quite the girl."

As they rounded the island, the shore opened upon a large lagoon, separated from the ocean by a low sandbar. Waves broke and washed over the bar, leaving a foamy wake. Hook steered them towards a channel in the sand and rowed them through. The boat scraped the sandy bottom, then drifted into the lagoon on the waves.

In the middle of the lagoon sat a large flat rock, raised just above the water. A series of smaller rocks trailed like a pathway to the shore, albeit a slippy one. Emma tested the water and quickly drew her fingers back. Ice cold. Painfully so.

The rowboat knocked into the rock and came to stop. Hook secured the boat, tying it to their landing with a rope, and climbed onto the rock. He offered a hand to his passengers.

"Welcome to Mermaid Lagoon," he said.

Regina took his hand first and he pulled her up. Emma followed.

"Now we wait," said Hook.

"For how long?" asked Regina. She had her arms wrapped around her chest, coat buttoned tight.

A cold wind blew in, not from the ocean, but off the island itself. Emma eyed the forest. Despite the skeletal branches and sparse leaves, light did not penetrate far; she saw only darkness beyond the first few rows of trees. She shivered and pulled her scarf up around her neck.

"As long as it takes for word of our arrival to reach Tiger Lily's ears."

Emma quirked an eyebrow at Hook. "There's no one here. We supposed to meet an ambassador?"

Hook smiled knowingly. "She has her lines of communication."

A gull wheeled overhead and gave a shrill cry. Hook tipped his head at it with a quick wave of his hand, and it glided towards the forest, vanishing into the canopy. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, whistling a little shanty. Emma stared.

"_That's _her line of communication?"

"One of them."

"She talks to _birds_?"

"She talks to everything but plants, my dear Swan," said Hook. "Hell, for all I know, she talks to those too."

A smile played at the corners of Regina's lips. "Does that honestly surprise you, Emma?"

No, she guessed it didn't. At this point, it was hard to top the dragon and seeing her own royal nursery. "I think the bar's been raised."

Hook went on whistling, and Regina wandered to the edge of the rock and peered into the water below. Emma sidled up and joined her, earning a shy smile from the older woman. Regina Mills, _shy_. The word didn't fit, and it was strange seeing the emotion on her face, but there it was. Emma knew what was on her mind; it was on hers as well. It hadn't left, just taken a backseat to more immediate concerns, like animal whisperers and creepy forests filled with the Children of the Corn. Frankly, loving Regina Mills was a much more preferable topic of consideration.

Whoa. Love? Where had _that_ word come from?

Emma glared inwardly at her subconscious. _Bad_ subconscious. Bad.

Right. Like she'd only _recently_ had Regina on the brain. Who was she kidding? The woman had been an ambient presence in her mind for the last two years. Sure, Regina infuriated her sometimes, but Christ knew she'd done just as much to infuriate _her_. Maybe more. She certainly never tried to swipe anyone _else's_ son.

And look at Regina now.

Emma could still feel the older woman's hand closed around her own. Sheer, naked hopefulness in her doe-brown eyes. She had never seen Regina give anybody else that look.

Just her.

Oh goddammit. Why deny it? Why run from another relationship because she was afraid? Of all the times she needed to try, something told Emma it was _now_. And she _wanted_ to try. She wanted to feel their fingers entangled, their lips entangled, their _legs_ entangled. She wanted Regina there when she went to sleep, she wanted her there when she woke up. She wanted to hear her laugh, see her smile, and to wipe away her tears when she cried.

She never wanted to hurt her again and wished she never had.

Emma jumped when the older woman touched her arm and smiled.

"You're staring," Regina said.

It took all her self-control not to kiss her right there on the rock, for all the creepy-ass island to see.

But now was not the time to discuss it, let alone announce her feelings by way of saliva exchange. Not with Hook nearby and Neverland's own Dr. Dolittle on her way. Not to mention Emma felt like the forest was watching them, but she didn't say that out loud. Even in her head, it sounded paranoid.

Emma peered into the crystal clear water and straight to the bottom of the lagoon. "Just enjoying the view."

"Right," said Regina, and it was clear from her smirk she knew Emma didn't mean the scenery.

The lagoon really was beautiful, though. Willow trees grew along the shore here and there, branches trailing in the tropical-blue water._ Deceiving_, Emma thought. If she hadn't known the water was so cold, she might have jumped in for a swim. Rocks were scattered across a seabed of pure white sand, tall arches and low outcrops, with tendrils of seaweed swaying with the waves.

A flash of movement cut between two rocks.

Emma frowned and looked harder, but the ripples and swells of the surface distorted what lay below.

A dark shape shot through an arch and under an overhang.

"Hey." Emma grabbed Regina's arm and pointed. "Did you see that?"

"What? What did you—"

Something distinctly in possession of a fin raced along the seabed and disappeared in a maze of boulders.

Regina drew back from the water's edge.

"Hook," said Emma slowly, eyes glued to the depths. "Why do they call this Mermaid Lagoon?"

"Because the mermaids swim here in…" Hook paused and waved an imploring hand. "Shoals? Pods? What do you call a group of mermaids? Harems, maybe."

"You _idiot_!" Regina snapped.

"What, is your aunt a mermaid? Unwind those nerves, darling, it was a jest," said Hook.

Regina stormed up to the captain and shoved him backwards a step, the smirk disappearing from his face as he stumbled. "Mermaids _hate_ human women, you imbecile! We need to leave— _now_."

"Kindly keep your slacks on, your queenliness," Hook said, dusting off his coat. He fell back out of reach as Regina lunged at him again. "I've never had trouble with the creatures— never seen more than a glimpse of them, in fact."

"That's because you're a _man_— you had a _crew_ of men! Men don't concern them. These are jealous, vain, spiteful creatures who view any beauty but their own as a threat," said Regina.

"My, don't we think highly of ourselves."

Emma, Regina, and Hook spun around.

"As if you could possibly be more beautiful than _me_."

A woman perched with her arms folded on the rock, long silken black hair falling around her shoulders. As she shifted, Emma realized with a blush that she was bare-breasted, and behind her a tail splashed in the water, with blue scales that glittered like sapphires as they caught the sun. Emma, Regina, and Hook backed further away, towards the other edge of the rock.

"You call me vain," the mermaid said, her ice-blue eyes locked on Regina, "yet you think I should be jealous of _your_ beauty. Did you hear that, sister? She thinks she's pretty."

"Not prettier than _us_," said a voice behind them. They were at the water's edge, and it was too late to move as a slender hand grabbed Regina's ankle and yanked her legs out from under her.

Regina fell flat on her stomach and cracked her elbows on the rock with a cry of pain as a redheaded mermaid dragged her into the water. Emma screamed and Hook shouted, both of them latching onto Regina's arms and struggling to pull her back, but the mermaid was shockingly strong and heavy. Regina's nails dug into Emma's hands as her fingers slipped through her own and the older woman vanished beneath the waves with a violent splash.

"_Regina_!"

Emma had little time to panic; the black-haired mermaid popped up and grinned, and in a brief moment of clarity, Emma saw the creature's mouth was lined with rows of serrated teeth. Then she was falling, backwards, the thing's grip on her ankles like a vice. She hit the rock hard on her back and felt the air woosh from her lungs in a rush. Emma gasped— or tried. She made strangled noises as she desperately sucked at the air, and with an icy tendril of fear that slithered up her spine, she realized what was about to happen.

As her lungs fought to recover, unable to breathe, the mermaid dragged her into the frigid water.

If she _could_ breathe, she would have gasped at the painful cold that enveloped and saturated her down to her bones— but perhaps that was a stroke of luck that saved her from a quick drowning. Her lungs were on fire, a building pressure in her head as her brain screamed for oxygen. Her vision blurred and faded around the edges, but she could see her assailant, smiling, black hair swirling like oil in the water.

Regina floated several yards away— or maybe inches or miles, she couldn't tell as her thoughts swam and darted through her slowing mind like little fishes. The other mermaid had her in a tight embrace, cradling her head, and Emma couldn't see if her eyes were open or if she even moved. The creature opened its mouth, sharp teeth glinting in the filtered sunlight, and prepared to make a meal of Regina, as if to make sure she never again thought herself prettier than a shark-faced fishwoman.

Emma's heart contracted in a way that had nothing to do with her body quietly shutting down.

She reached for Regina through the water, strength tingling along her limbs and warming her chest, and a burst of light shot from her fingertips and drew Regina to her, a magical lifeline.

The mermaids thrashed away, terrified.

Emma wished she could see the looks on their faces, but her vision was failing. Air bubbles slipped from from Regina's nose and mouth. Her own lungs had recovered and were burning, desperate to pull anything into them, air or water. Emma held Regina to her, the woman's hair brushing her face, and weakly kicked towards the surface.

But consciousness finally loosened it grasp and let her drift away.

.~.-*-.~.

Emma awoke on solid ground and sucked in a lungful of air.

Then immediately rolled over and vomited water.

Emma pulled herself onto hands and knees, coughing and wheezing, and retched bile, her stomach tight and painful, throat burning. _Everything_ burned— her lungs, her muscles, her eyes; her head pounded like someone had drilled into her brain; and above all else, she was cold— so cold she was certain she would never feel warm again.

Through the haze of pain, she heard voices, muffled as though far away, and saw Hook's heavy boots stepping closer. Next to them was a pair of unshod feet, tanned and calloused.

She coughed and spat to clear the taste of salt and bile from her mouth, then raised her eyes to the woman who stood over her.

_Tiger Lily, I presume_, she thought.

She was tall but young, maybe fifteen or sixteen— but the lines that creased her brown eyes told Emma she was somehow much older. Her skin was the color of caramel, her jet-black hair swept over her shoulder in a braid that hung to her thighs. She wore light linen pants and a matching sleeveless tunic, both embroidered with brightly-colored thread in hues of blue and purple and orange. Beads of turquoise and lapis lazuli hung around her neck, strung with carved wooden charms shaped like animals and leaves. Across her back was slung a bow and a quiver bristling with arrows.

She offered Emma a hand, and she accepted, surprised by the strength that easily pulled her to her feet.

"Where's Regina?" Emma wheezed.

The young woman smiled and gestured to the rowboat, where Regina sat, shivering and pale, but very much alive. Emma nearly collapsed with relief.

"Emma Swan," said Tiger Lily, and there was definite age to her voice. She smiled. "We both share names with beasts, and rightfully so. Swans are powerful and brave, if aggressive. It is rare to see someone protect another so selflessly."

Despite the chill that gripped her bones, a blush crept to her cheeks. Something about Tiger Lily's smile told Emma she knew there was something between her and Regina.

"Tiger Lily here has agreed to help us," said Hook.

Tiger Lily shot him a stern look. "I have agreed to help two mothers find their son. _You_ just happen to be present as well. Don't think I've forgotten you abandoned my people in favor of your quest for vengeance— against a man with whom you now sail."

Hook coughed. "It's a long story."

"One I eagerly await to hear," said Tiger Lily. "Until then, these women must return to your ship before the chills take them. They're yet in shock. Meet me back here tomorrow morning with the rest of your crew, and I'll ensure the mermaids keep their distance." She turned to Emma and Regina, her voice hard and eyes determined. "I have business to settle with Peter Pan, and your arrival convinces me now is the time. We _will_ find your son."

Emma climbed shakily into the rowboat and huddled next to Regina. The older woman was wrapped in a thick woolen blanket that, judging by the patterns and colors woven into it, was provided by Tiger Lily. Regina opened the blanket and wrapped Emma up too, the two of them snuggled close together for warmth. She felt Regina's breath on her cheek and met her eyes. Regina smiled, broad and unrestrained, and though her lips were still faintly blue, it was the most beautiful thing Emma could have hoped to see.

"I t-t-told you I'd always s-save you," she whispered through chattering teeth.

Under the blanket, she felt Regina's fingers interlock with her own.

* * *

**A/N: You have no idea how happy it made me to write Greg getting punched in the jewels. :D Fuck Greg.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Aaand this chapter contains what you've all probably been waiting for- Swan Queen sexytime! In case you _weren't_ waiting for that, you've been warned. :P**

* * *

As night fell on Neverland, so did a silence fall between Regina and Emma as they entered their shared cabin.

It was not an awkward silence, but expectant; not tense, but thick with anticipation. It was their first chance alone since the incident at Mermaid Lagoon that morning, and the air was heavy with words unspoken.

The afternoon was spent preparing for tomorrow's excursion to the island, with no privacy or time for discussion. Snow White had fussed over Emma at every chance, ensuring she was not about to slip into hypothermia. Snow even brought Regina a cup of hot tea, and Regina found she could not offer even the most weakly barbed insult. Not when this woman's daughter had saved her life yet again; not when Emma held her hand so intimately beneath that blanket for the entire boat ride back to the Jolly Roger. It was with great reluctance she had let their fingers pull apart.

Regina held her back to Emma, heart thumping hard in her chest. The younger woman must have thought about it all day as well, and the time for discussion was now, before they jumped together into the fire tomorrow. She toyed with the buttons on her coat as Emma clicked the door shut behind them. Regina ached to say something first; she was so accustomed to getting what she wanted, when she wanted it. Immediately was never too soon. But she knew Emma was the one person she could never control. Regina could not force her affections, and nothing she could say now would win them. If Emma Swan loved her, it would be her own free will.

That was far more precious than anything Regina could demand or conjure.

The idea of rejection was still a sharp if irrational fear in the back of her mind, and as the silence persisted, Regina's nervousness grew. She felt driven to speak, even though her thoughts were a jumble she could barely sort out.

"Emma, you know how I feel," she blurted. She turned to face her and saw Emma's throat bob, but the blonde remained quiet. Regina shifted under her gaze. "I think you appreciate how difficult it was for me to admit. So I understand if you need more time to work this out. But if— if you don't feel the same… I'd ask that you get this over with. '_The quick bite of a sword hurts less in the end than a slow poison_.'"

"That sounds like poetry," said Emma, her voice soft.

"It's a proverb. From the Enchanted Forest."

Regina knew she'd started rambling, that it was unlike her, that if anyone else saw her in this state, she would be ashamed and angry and heads would roll until she felt in control and powerful again. Emma seemed to bring out another side of her— a side she'd left in a stable on a small estate, very far away.

Even that part of her had its pride, and Regina held her chin high and met the other woman's eyes; a challenge that she could bear whatever answer she was given.

But Emma said nothing at all.

Emma kissed her instead.

Regina stiffened with surprise for a brief moment before her eyes fluttered shut and she relaxed into the kiss. It said so much more than words ever could. Emma's fingers slid into her hair and pressed their mouths close. Regina parted her lips, an invitation Emma readily accepted, and she tasted sweetness as their tongues swept together. A thrill like falling shot through her stomach. Heat settled between her legs. Regina traced the blonde's jaw with her fingertips and cupped her cheek, lightly pulling at Emma's lower lip as they separated.

Breathless, their eyes met, then Emma yanked her into a giant bear-hug.

Regina couldn't help a laugh from bubbling up. She rested her head on the younger woman's shoulder. Snaking her arms around Emma's waist, she returned the hug as best she knew how. It had been a long while since she'd felt this safe in someone's arms.

"Please don't go swimming with any more mermaids," Emma murmured into her hair.

She smiled. "That was entirely unintentional, I assure you."

Emma buried her face deeper into her hair; Regina could hear her short, shallow breaths, felt the warmth on her ear and cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed again, and she nuzzled Emma's hair aside, placing soft kisses on the woman's neck. Emma gave a quiet groan and held her tighter.

"I feel like I found something I didn't know I lost," she said.

"Something you never knew you had," Regina whispered.

"Yeah."

They held each other in comfortable silence, the only sound that of the ship creaking with the movement of the ocean and the wash of waves against the hull. Their cabin smelled of old ale and brine, of kerosene and a hint of tobacco, but somehow, Emma always managed to smell like cinnamon and vanilla. Regina let her scent fill her senses.

"What convinced you? Of this." Regina spoke against the flesh of her neck, trailing kisses along her jaw, to the base of her ear. "Us."

"I've always felt something between us, Regina. I just had to _let_ myself feel it." Her voice wavered, fingers digging into the small of Regina's back. Emma hummed and tilted her head, exposing more skin to Regina's lips. "You were the one with enough balls to say it first."

Regina smiled and kissed her throat open-mouthed, tasting the ocean salt that had dried on her skin.

"But, uh… seeing that mermaid pull you under was a big help," said Emma.

"I suppose I should thank her."

"Yeah. From a distance. Through a bullhorn. Maybe write her a letter."

Regina pulled away, and the women looked at each other and grinned.

"I don't mean to crash the party, but we've got a jungle adventure tomorrow. Maybe we'd better get some sleep, huh?" said Emma.

Regina could hardly deny she was dead tired. Not just sleepy, but a weariness that settled in her bones like lead. She supposed near-drowning would do that to a person. Reluctantly, she agreed, and the two women went about shedding their coats and boots.

Regina stripped to her panties and threw on an old linen tunic she'd found in a chest of clothing days ago. It wasn't silk pajamas, but it had suited her thus far. She neatly folded her clothes, a habit not broken even by the high seas, and crawled into bed. Emma had politely turned her back while Regina undressed. Her gallantry left Regina feeling guilty as she watched Emma slide off her tight jeans, leaving her in blue cotton panties and a tanktop.

But only a _teensy_ bit guilty.

As the younger woman moved to climb into the top bunk, Regina grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Actually, I was hoping you might… stay with me." She lifted the blanket just far enough to reveal black panties and bare thighs.

Emma visibly gulped. "Y'know, I _am_ still kinda feeling the chills…"

Regina held the blanket higher with a mischievous smile, and Emma hastily crawled in with no further bidding.

The bunk was small, certainly not meant for two people. The women pressed close together, bare legs tangling beneath the blanket. Regina nestled into the crook of Emma's arm and rested her head on the blonde's chest, listening to the jackhammer beat of her heart. She chuckled.

"Even my magic can't fix a heart attack. Calm down."

"Right," said Emma. "Says the gorgeous woman with her head on my tits."

Regina grinned up at her, and Emma shook her head and laughed.

"Am I dreaming?"

Regina pinched her stomach and Emma yelped.

"You're quite awake."

Emma laughed again. "I know you're in a good mood when you start joking around."

Emma was right. She hadn't felt this happy in… years. Not since Henry had started drifting away from her, not since she realized her curse wasn't such a happy ending after all. But now, maybe— just maybe— things were changing. Regina slid her arm around Emma's waist, feeling the hard muscles of her stomach beneath her hand. She could get used to this.

"So," said Emma, "You ever, uh… y'know. Been with a woman?"

Regina gave a soft laugh. "No, actually. The opportunity never presented itself."

"No? Come on— I bet you had handmaids as queen." Emma grinned cheekily and poked Regina in the ribs. "Maybe they bathed you, maybe you invited one back to your chamber…"

"I bathed myself, thank you very much."

"Ah, right," Emma said. "Nothing like masturbating in the bathtub."

"Miss Swan!"

"You'd be more convincing if you weren't blushing."

Regina arched an eyebrow, but it quickly collapsed. It was difficult to work up the intimidation with a bright red face. She sighed and offered Emma a guilty smile. "And what about you?"

"I prefer doing it in the shower."

Regina gave a sputtered laugh.

Emma grinned. "I was with a woman for a few months. Met her at the bond agency I worked for. That relationship was a short, rocky road, but, uh…" Emma cleared her throat. "Long enough for me to gain some experience."

Regina licked her lips and smiled into Emma's chest. "And what sort of experience would that be, Miss Swan?"

"The lesbian kind, Madame Mayor," Emma teased. She stroked Regina's elbow with her thumb, then paused. "Wait. So when we kissed, that was your first…?"

"Lesbian encounter? It was indeed."

"Damn. If I'd known, I'd've cranked up the heat."

Regina chuckled. "I wouldn't change a thing. It was perfect."

"If you say so."

"I do." Regina lifted her head and adopted her most regal expression. "In fact, as your queen, I decree it."

"Mm." Emma smiled and leaned into Regina's waiting lips. "My queen."

They came together in another kiss, and with that gesture, sleep suddenly felt a thousand lightyears away. Weariness melted from Regina's body as Emma's hand roamed across her chest, cupped her breasts, and dove further beneath the blanket, caressing her bare thigh. Regina broke the kiss and hummed into the blonde's neck. She was invigorated in a way she almost swore was magical.

Emma's fingers lightly brushed the smooth skin of her belly and played at the waistband of her panties, skimming along the edge. She raised an eyebrow in a wordless question. Regina gave a quick nod.

Emma propped herself up on one elbow and slipped a hand inside Regina's underwear. Regina gulped, her breathing deep and hurried as Emma's fingers ran through her well-groomed patch of curls and into the wet heat of her slit.

"Jesus," Emma murmured. "How are you so damn wet already?"

Regina smiled shakily, finding it difficult to think while Emma's fingertips gently eased between her folds. "I told you that kiss was perfect."

Emma grinned and pressed two fingers to her clit, and Regina's smirk died with a gasp.

Emma's movements were slow and deliberate— light, lingering touches countered with long, hard strokes. Regina whimpered her approval, grasping Emma's bicep to ground herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as the younger woman worked her own brand of magic, a touch she hadn't felt since Graham.

But even Graham hadn't touched her quite like this. Her nights with the former sheriff were all business, quick and efficient even when they took it slow. During their trysts, Regina always knew that however much she made Graham desire her, he never truly _wanted_ her. No one had wanted to touch her since Daniel.

No one, until Emma Swan.

Emma rubbed a little faster, massaging her clit in tight circles. Regina groaned and opened her legs wider, hitching one over Emma's hip. She moved with Emma, hesitant at first, matching her rhythm, rolling her hips, grinding against the other woman's hand in slow, hard thrusts until urgency drove her faster. She pressed her forehead to Emma's, nipped and sucked at the blonde's lips, her breath coming short and quick. Her fingers tightened on Emma's arm with a quiet, pleading whine. Emma picked up the pace, fingers slipping in Regina's wetness.

She felt a delicious tension between her legs, her orgasm building slowly like a wave, gathering force. Regina opened her eyes and found Emma watching her, green eyes dark with arousal.

"Mm… M-miss Swan. You're s-staring again."

"Yep," she said, her voice level. "I wanna see your face when you come."

Regina moaned and clenched her leg tight around Emma's hip; the blonde caught her open mouth in a kiss. When they parted, they locked eyes— Regina's tinged with desperation, Emma's calm but for her dilated pupils.

A smirk twitched at Regina's mouth. She slid a hand between Emma's thighs and cupped her crotch, groaning at the wetness that soaked her underwear. With her thumb, Regina stroked the woman's swollen clit through the fabric, smiling in satisfaction as Emma's cool facade faltered.

"_Fuck_," Emma hissed.

She pressed herself against Regina's hand and redoubled her own efforts between the older woman's legs. Regina threw back her head and let out a soft cry of pain and pleasure, gritting her teeth as release edged closer and closer, a fiery, aching heat that slicked her thighs with sweat.

"Emma… Emma, _please_…"

Emma's fingers hit her clit at just the right angle and her orgasm crested and broke in a burst of hot pleasure. Regina arched her back with a ragged moan, hips jerking, legs trembling as she rode out wave after wave against Emma's hand. Emma's deft fingers drew out the intense sensation and kept her panting in gratified relief as the blonde slowly brought her down from the peak.

Regina's whole body shook with exertion, thoroughly spent, the muscles in her thighs quivering and achey. She relaxed into the bunk and watched Emma with hooded eyes.

"Well?" she said as her breathing slowed. "How did I look?"

"Beautiful. Hot," said Emma. "So fucking hot."

Emma pulled her hand out of Regina's panties, but Regina grabbed her wrist with a smoldering smile and brought the woman's fingers to her lips. She took the slick digits in her mouth and licked her own wetness from them with a swirl of her tongue.

"Christ," Emma groaned. "Regina…"

Regina smiled mostly with her eyes and kissed Emma's fingertips. "I believe it's your turn, my dear."

"Oh, _hell yes_."

Emma squirmed out of her underwear and tossed them to the cabin floor. She straddled Regina, pushing her into the bed on her back. Regina peeked beneath the blanket and arched an approving eyebrow, licking her lips.

"I'd wondered if you were a natural blonde," she said.

Emma laughed and pulled off her tanktop, revealing firm, pert breasts and pink nipples. Regina sucked in a breath. Before she could reach up and cup them, Emma had her hands under her linen tunic, pulling the garment over her head. She made short work of Regina's panties as well, throwing them aside, unneeded and easily forgotten. The women paused, eyes roaming each other's naked bodies.

Regina tilted her head with a cocky smile. "Well then."

"Oh yeah," said Emma. "Well then."

Emma mounted Regina's leg, clamping it between her thighs, and lunged forward in a long, hard thrust. She sank into Regina's body and kissed her, grinding against her thigh in a steady rhythm. Regina felt the younger woman's wetness streak her skin and gave a low moan as their breasts pressed together, her nipples hard as Emma rocked back and forth. Her hands slid down Emma's back and rested on her ass. Biting at Emma's lip, Regina drove her thigh harder between her legs to match her thrusts, and Emma responded with appreciative grunts and groans that climbed in pitch the faster the two of them moved.

The bunk creaked beneath them.

Emma's thrusts became frantic and uncontrolled. Regina felt the blonde's muscles tighten in her back, in her legs. Her long hair draped her face, swaying as she thrusted, mouth contorted with effort; Regina could see she was almost there. So close. As Emma's hips jerked against her thigh, Regina ran her hand between the woman's legs and slid two fingers inside her wet entrance.

"_Holy shit_," Emma hissed, her voice a strained whine.

She clenched her thighs and cried out, her entire body tensing, then she collapsed on top of Regina, grinding slowly as Regina pumped her fingers in and out until the blonde's hips stilled.

"Fuck, Regina." Emma panted into her shoulder. "Holy fuck."

Regina smiled wolfishly and swept the disheveled hair from Emma's face. "Did I do well for my first time with a woman?"

Emma grinned. "If I say no, do we get to practice some more?"

Regina lightly slapped her ass. Emma tweaked her nipple and rolled off her, but Regina held her wrist.

"I know it's awfully cramped, but… would you sleep here with me tonight?"

Emma smiled, brushing her fingers over Regina's cheek, and kissed her forehead. "Of course. I was just getting comfortable."

Regina tilted her head and caught her in a kiss full on the lips once more. When they parted, Emma gave her another peck on the corner of her mouth, then curled up against the curve of Regina's body, wrapping her arm around the older woman's waist, her head tucked in the crook of her shoulder. Regina closed her hand over Emma's, intertwining their fingers, and felt the blonde smile into her neck.

Regina didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but as her eyes closed, the outlook didn't look so bad.


End file.
